What He'd Want
by justcrazykids
Summary: 'In those few seconds of green on hazel, Sam sees so much undying love, so much regret, and so much pride. And that's when he knows exactly what Dean would want him to do, despite not a single word being uttered.' A recount of Sam's leaving of Stanford with added angst, fluff, and brotherly love!


**A/N: **- spoilers: none, unless you don't know the story of how Sam was 'disowned.'

- pairings: gen, possibly Wincest but only if you see it like that

- k+ for very _very _mild swearing, especially considering its Supernatural!

- disclaimer: although i'd love to own the boys, i don't. but oh if i did... (;

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What He'd Want

_You want good things for yourself_

_But that's not important_

_Because all that you care about is_

_What would he want?_

"If you walk through that door, don't you _ever _come back."

The malice in his father's voice almost makes him flinch. Almost.

Sam Winchester, the boy who's always been the freak. The weirdo. The nerd. The loser.

Not anymore.

That Sam Winchester was a hunter, led by a strict, drill sergeant of a father and practically raised by his older brother.

This new Sam Winchester, who is debuting in the crummy living room of the family's latest apartment, is a college-bound, free as a bird, _man_, who will refuse to stop until he gets the normal life he's dreamt of for so long.

He will not be a freak, nor will he be a weirdo. He's also confident that whence he's in a place where he's surrounded by people with a common goal, he won't be a loser. But the whole 'nerd' thing, he's not sure that he'll be able to escape that. Because although he'll never admit it, he _is _a humongous nerd and he's actually come to like the fact about himself.

This is what he wants. He wants a normal life, a normal job. One that does not consist of hunting monsters, living out of rank apartments, and eating greasy food.

But being disowned from his family? He doesn't want that. His father and him, sure they've had some disagreements (replacing 'some' with 'a shit ton' would be much more accurate), but for Christ's sake, that's his _dad_ and he'll be damned if he doesn't love the man.

And his brother. God, his brother. If Sam loves his father, he doesn't know how he feels about Dean. 'Love' just isn't a strong enough word for how Sam feels about his big brother. Hell, there isn't _any _word in _any_ language that can accurately and fairly describe the endless love and admiration he feels for Dean.

So when his father asks him the question that will ultimately decide his future, Sam pauses and takes a moment to weigh the positives and the negatives of leaving.

The positives: an education, new friends, a stable environment, a chance to be normal.

The negatives: losing his family (if he's being honest, mostly just Dean. His father and he haven't been on good terms in _years_.)

To anyone else, the positives definitely outweigh the negatives, because even if you lose your family, at college you have the chance to build yourself a new one consisting of friends and a girlfriend (or a boyfriend, depending on your preference.)

But to Sam, losing Dean, his brother, his best friend, his mentor, it's almost enough to make him change his mind and stay, no matter how utterly miserable it would make him.

That being said, Sam's mind slips to what Dean would want. He slips a tense glance over to his brother who has been silently standing in a far away corner of the room. Dean's gaze is focused on the floor, but at the feeling of eyes boring into him, he looks up and returns Sam's relentlessly fierce stare with nowhere near as much relentless fierceness.

In those few seconds of green on hazel, Sam sees so much undying love, so much regret, and so much pride. And that's when he knows exactly what Dean would want him to do, despite not a single word being uttered.

Sam pulls his eyes from his brother, savoring the feeling of importance and love it brings him, and steels himself. He lifts his chin, squares his ever-broadening shoulders, and marches to the warped-to-hell door. With slightly trembling fingers and a voice he desperately hopes sounds stronger than he feels, he leaves his old life behind. "Goodbye."

And somehow, when he next looks up, he's in the dimly lit parking lot of their (not his anymore; just Dean and dad's) apartment, believing yet unbelieving of what he's just done.

The believing, confident part of him urges him to forge on, to get him and his meager belongings to that bus terminal and to Stanford without looking back.

The unbelieving part, however, wants him to think things over _again _and ask for acceptance back into his family, back into the life he was born into.

But when Sam's mind wanders back to those watery, green eyes that gave him confirmation to his decision, his disbelieving part wavers, then disintegrates entirely, leaving behind nothing besides the sting of loss.

He doesn't realize that he's just been standing in the parking lot with his duffel at his feet until he hears footsteps behind him. For a moment, he tenses. Parking lots are one of the most common places that robberies occur and he's just not in the mood to fight someone off tonight.

Just a second later, however, his shoulders are slumping and his body is receding from the fight-or-flight instinct, because he'd know those footsteps anywhere.

"Are you waiting on a cab?" Dean asks hesitantly, as if Sam may lash out on him at any second.

As if.

Sam shakes his head, but realizes that it may be just a little too dark to see the slight movement. With his most confident voice he mutters, "No."

Although his voice comes out sounding small and nervous, Dean doesn't seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn't care. It's not really important; it's just a small detail that will blur with enough time.

"Let me give you a ride to the station."

Reluctantly and thankfully (Sam might as well become the king of irony), he looks back at Dean's tall, unwavering form. "Are you sure? I can just-"

"No. Let me take you."

Since he didn't really like the latter option anyway, he agrees and shuffles his bag onto his shoulder. Then a minute later, they're both sitting in the car beside each other, just as they'd been doing for their entire lives.

Except this isn't like any of those times. This is so different and painful and Sam's almost wishing he'd opted to walking instead of indulging in one last ride in the Impala with the most important person in his life.

But Sam's used to pain, both physical and emotional. In his life (well, his old life), he's dealt with more than his fair share of it. So he can deal with the ache and the pain of the familiarity gone wrong, as long as it means getting to savor his brother's presence for just a little while longer.

And Dean must feel the same way, because Sam catches him staring without evening trying to cover it up. It's as if he's trying to engrain every detail of Sam's being in the remaining short time before they part ways, however indefinitely it may be.

But it's such a foolish thought, Sam barely even entertains in. For God's sake, they've been all each other have had for 18 years now. There are no secrets between them, there isn't a thing they don't know about each other.

Whether it's how Dean knows every scar, mole, and birthmark on Sam's body, or how Sam knows in which way Dean's mood will affect the shades of his eyes in even the most simplest of ways, they have each other memorized like a favorite old book.

It's amazing really, how close two people can become despite the trials of a life spent on the road without much to their names. It's also quite sad when those two people are forced to part ways and lead lives away from each other when they've never even slept in a different room (that's a slight exaggeration, but it's not far off from the truth.)

So when the Impala comes to a gradual stop at the bus station, neither brother moves an inch, hardly daring to breath for fear it may be their last in each other's presence. And for one moment, just one, Sam wonders if he made a mistake. Maybe he read his brother wrong in that room, maybe it was just in his mind what he saw in that green gaze.

And something must register in his stature or in his cloudy eyes, because Dean tilts his chin upwards and forces their eyes to meet in another bittersweet green on hazel tango. Once more, Sam feels the doubt come rushing out.

The brief eye contact is so much that Sam can't find his voice, so he simply nods. There isn't anything left to say anyway. They've never needed words; they are men of action.

For fear of breaking down right then and there, Sam hastily removes himself and his bag from the car and walks into the brightly lighted terminal. He almost can't believe that that was the last time he would be seeing his brother in God knows how long.

And damn, it's a good thing he didn't believe, because when a warm, calloused, all-too-familiar hand wraps itself around his bicep, he's gotta do everything he can to keep himself from crying in happiness.

Dean swings him around and before he knows it, Sam's face is buried in Dean's chest and his arms are around him, squeezing hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough for Sam to want them off of him. Instantaneously, Sam wraps his ropey arms around his brother and buries himself further into the embrace.

Although the words are slightly muffled, whether by tears or by Sam's hair, Sam can make out, "You better call me dammit. This will **not **be the last time I see you, you understand?"

Sam just nods vigorously into his brother's chest. Trusting his tear-stricken voice just barely, he croaks, "'course I will. You can visit me whenever you want, we can meet up somewhere, just hang out, huh?"

"Y-yeah," Dean replies, his voice raw and gruff, but still affectionate nonetheless.

Then they just stand, arms locked around each other, both of them pretending that there aren't tremendous amounts of salty water running down their cheeks. But after a few seconds (possibly minutes, maybe even hours for all Sam knows), they break apart.

After they break contact, with all the strength he's got in his aching heart, Sam looks to Dean's red-rimmed eyes in search of that confirmation that has assured him that he's making the right choice.

And after all of this pain and grief and loss, it's still there.

_I love you more than anything, Sammy. You know that. You're not just my brother, you're my best friend too. You are the reason I am who I am, you give me strength, you give me hope. We've fought, we've screwed up, and yeah, you're a bitch sometimes… all the time… but I'll never stop loving you. And even though this is gonna hurt worse than hell, you need to go. This life, this isn't what you want. You want normal, you want stable. And I can't give that to you if you stay with me and dad. So go to Stanford, get your dumb old degree, and live your life the way you've wanted to live it since you were little. But just know, while you're at Stanford, there won't be a day that I don't miss you and that I'm not grateful for everything you've done. I'm so proud of you, kiddo and I know you'll do great. And I love you… you sappy bitch. _

The message conveyed in just a few moments of eye contact is what makes him pick up his duffel, wipe his eyes, and smile an honest-to-God genuine smile. And when he sees a sad, but true smile in return, he turns and leaves the most important person in his life behind.

Because it's what he'd want him to do.

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**A/N: **Omfg this happened when I wrote Hunger Games one-shots too. I go in thinking I'm gonna write something reeeeaaaalllllly short, but then BAM 2,000 fricken words! Oh well, I like long stories. (: If you've read the first part of 'The Bright Side', I'm uploading Part 2 tomorrow after school! This little one-shot just popped into my head and I figured that I'd write it to keep myself awake. It worked!


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